


What Dreams May Come

by melody1987



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, lifebond
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-07-22 20:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7452427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melody1987/pseuds/melody1987
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story of how far one man will go, to save the soul of another.<br/>(Star Wars/What Dreams May Come crossover)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> What Dreams May Come is one of my all-time favourite films. If you've not seen it yet, I suggest-nay, DEMAND-you do, because the only word I can use to describe it is "beautiful". From the scenery and music, to the spectacular acting from the entire cast, it's just an amazing movie from start to finish. I'd advise keeping tissues close by, though, because it's a bit of a tear-jerker.  
> Anyway, I watched it recently and it inspired me to do a crossover with one of my favourite pairings. if you've seen it, then this story will follow the basic plot of WDMC, with some Star Wars twists added. I aim to update this weekly, real life permitting, as I've already got the first five chapters written, although they'll be edited just before posting.  
> I hope you enjoy this story and I look forward to hearing any thoughts you lovely readers may have!  
> Just a quick note to let you know that I've done a quick edit of this chapter, to include a credit to Shakespeare for the quote at the top of the chapter.  
> :)

_For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,_

_When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,_

_Must give us pause._

_-William Shakespeare._

In the Room of a Thousand Fountains, a man sits alone. At least, it appears that way. In truth, the man has an audience, of which he is well aware, but chooses to ignore. With legs crossed and hands resting lightly on his knees, eyelids remain shut and his chest continues its slow, rhythmic movement. For all intents and purposes, this man is a being completely at peace.

The boy, watching from afar, unaware that he has been discovered, is unable to shake the feeling of awe inspired by the focus of his attention. It is not a habit of the child to stare at strangers, but curiosity-the intense sort only felt by the young-along with a tremor of indignation, have captivated him. Having encountered no others during his short years at the temple, the boy had come to the obvious conclusion that the space currently occupied by the man was free to claim and promptly done so. For that assumption to have been so easily shattered is, indeed, a troubling notion for the child, as it hasn’t even occurred that the sitting man has been a visitor to this place long before he was even born.

The man is very tall, he can tell, and a sense of physical power is evident in the strong line of his back. Long hair hangs down, finishing just above his shoulder blades, with a braid holding the front section away from the face. It is a style vastly different to the child’s, who is forced to suffer the short crop bestowed upon all his age.

Very quickly, the boy forgives the man his offence of intrusion, as curiosity increases. _Who is this man?_ he wonders. _And why is he here?_ With an aim to be as silent as possible, the child inches forward. His footsteps are a whisper against the grass, as he moves towards a tree directly behind the newcomer. The new vantage point offers nothing, as the stranger’s back is still to the youth. The child does not wish to interrupt the peaceful man, although the desire is born more of fear than courtesy. Instead, he looks around for another secluded spot, from which to watch. The search proves rather fruitless, much to the child’s dismay. How can he hope to learn anything more of this man, if he cannot see his face?

“You may come forward.”

The deep, clear voice is unexpected and the boy gasps. He has been caught. The urge to run away is strong, but pride and courage have already begun to take residence in his young heart. It will take more than this interloper to scare _him_ away! The boy doesn’t grant the request immediately, though.

The man’s head turns, until a side profile of his face is visible and his eyes meet those of the child.

“I do not bite,” he says, the corner of his lip twitching upwards.

Swallowing the nerves he refuses to acknowledge, the boy moves. His steps are hesitant to begin with, before remembering the courage he is supposed to possess and his dimpled chin lifts a little higher. The stranger’s eyes remain on the child, amused, but not letting it show. Although still so very young, pride can be easily wounded and the man would never wish to be so cruel to one he has only just met.

The boy stops a few feet away and is now privy to the desired view that was previously hindered. With his limited experience, it is hard to guess the man’s age. Fine lines gather around the eyes and deeper ones frame either side of his lips, but he doesn’t seem old. Then again, anyone accustomed to the company of Grand Master Yoda would be hard pushed to find _anyone_ else old.

Whilst the boy conducts his assessment, the man returns the scrutiny. The boy cannot be any older than five or six, his features rounded by baby fat that won’t truly diminish for another fifteen years. His eyes are large and green, bright with inquisitiveness and the man briefly wonders if he will pass whatever test he is currently undergoing. He allows enough time for the child’s evaluation to be concluded, before attempting conversation.

“Tell me, little one. Are you a spy?”

The boy’s eyes widen and he doesn’t answer right away, waiting until he is offered a view of the mirth making blue eyes twinkle. It is then that the child responds with a shake of the head.

“An assassin?”

Another shake.

“Bounty hunter? Bodyguard?”

 _No and no,_ come the silent replies. The man remains quiet for a moment, before giving a knowledgeable nod.

“Ah, then you must be one of Master Yoda’s secret ninja.”

A smile breaks out across the little boy’s face and, with a giggle, he finally speaks. “No. Master Yoda doesn’t _have_ ninja.”

“No?” The man’s eyebrows rise, as though not believing what is being said to him. “That sounds an awful lot like something a secret ninja would say.”

Another giggle escapes the boy’s lips, before a frown creases his brow and his lips pucker in thought. The man patiently allows the child a moment, wondering what quandary might have suddenly seized the young mind.

“But…” the child begins, the frown deepening, as he considers the best way to word his confusion. “If the ninjas are secret, how do _you_ know about them?”

The man laughs, impressed by the display of quick intelligence. This boy has potential. After regarding him a little longer, the man leans forward and, making a show of checking that the coast is clear, he speaks in a stage whisper.

“Because I used to be one of them.”

To begin with, the child is unsure of how to respond. Despite his earlier assertion, the boy begins to wonder if Master Yoda _does_ employ ninja and that the man before him is speaking the truth. Then he catches another spark of humour and breaks into full blown, high-pitched laughter. The man smiles in return, surprised at how positive an effect the boy has had on his mood, despite the brevity of their acquaintance.

“What is your name, he who is not a spy, bounty hunter, assassin or secret ninja?”

The child replies, without hesitation. “Obi-Wan.”

The man holds out his right hand and a small, warm palm connects with his own.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Obi-Wan. I am Qui-Gon Jinn.”

They shake hands like old friends and Qui-Gon doesn’t even mind the disruption of his meditation, as he continues to enjoy the company of the bright young soul taking a seat beside him.

It is unfortunate that eight years should have to pass for them to meet again.


	2. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan couldn’t remember a time he had ever felt so rested. An overwhelming sense of peace pervaded his every pore and there was the indescribable sensation of his body not quite feeling attached to reality. A gentle breeze, carrying with it the delicate sound of birdsong, ran through golden-red hair. The melodies caressed his ears and an unbidden, yet contented sigh escaped the young man’s lips.

Where he was, Obi-Wan couldn’t say, but, right then, it mattered not. The location was unimportant, because anywhere that made him feel this way couldn’t possibly be bad.

“Good morning.”

A familiar feminine voice, one that Obi-Wan hadn’t heard for many years, caught his attention. At first, he thought it a figment of his imagination, but, when she spoke a second time, sheer curiosity was the only thing able to force his eyes open.

Above him (it was after a moment of disorientation that Obi-Wan realised he was lying down) was a face to which the years had never been harsh. Her dark, honey-toned skin was as luminous as ever, her eyes that most bizarre and beautiful mixture of green and gold, and her gaze was warm, as it fell upon him.

For a long while, Obi-Wan did little more than bask in the woman’s attention, his mind unable to quite comprehend what was happening. There was languidness to his being that he couldn’t quite overcome, as though he had slept for far too long and wakefulness was struggling to break through the slumber.

“How are you feeling?” the woman above him asked.

With the suddenness of a lightning bolt, Obi-Wan knew the identity of his companion and the shock was enough to break him out of his stupor. Rolling onto his side and using a hand to lever his torso upwards, the young man felt his palm connect with something wet. Looking down with a frown, Obi-Wan realised he was lying in a large puddle of water and three-quarters of his body was now soaked. Strangely, there was no discomfort and the water, whilst cool, felt refreshing against his skin.

A hand was proffered, which Obi-Wan accepted. Once steadily upright, the bewildered man took a moment to study the face before him. Oh, but it had been so long since he saw her. The sight was a welcome one.

“Tahl,” he breathed, unsure of what else to say, as a smile spread across his face.

“Hello, Obi-Wan,” she replied, offering a smile of her own. Their hands were still clasped, but neither seemed eager to break contact. “It has been a long time.”

Obi-Wan considered the comment and then a second frown creased his brow. Yes, it had been a long time, although the exact details of their last encounter were frustratingly hard to recollect. His mind was still struggling against the warm lethargy that he just couldn’t fully shake off.

Tahl’s eyes clouded with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked, enclosing his hand between hers.

“I…” he began, his frown deepening. “I just need a…”

Understanding ran through Tahl, before she released Obi-Wan’s hand and he rubbed his face, hoping it might help kick his brain into gear. After several deep breaths, he opened his eyes and spent another long minute gazing at the woman before him.

“Am I dreaming?” he queried, as the first stirrings of memory returned. The last time he had seen Tahl was on…Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, determined to remember.

_New Apsolon._

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open.

“Y-you…” His hand reached out, fingers tentatively ghosting against the smooth skin of Tahl’s cheek. “No…” He shook his head. “This can’t be. You…you’re…”

A sensation rose in Obi-Wan, beginning deep in the pit of his stomach. It was an odd numbness, which slowly spread throughout his body, before seeping into his mind. The hand touching his companion fell to his side and his mouth hung open, as dreadful realisation dawned. Their last encounter had been so, because the events of it had resulted in Tahl’s death, which meant…

“Oh,” was all Obi-Wan could say and his eyes fell to the floor.

A deep sympathy radiated from Tahl’s gaze and it was her turn to run fingers across his face. This moment was never an easy one. Although a significant amount of time had passed since her entrance into the afterlife, she would never forget how it felt to realise she had been claimed by death. Many a soul followed her in the twelve years since and every one of them initially reacted the same way, although the time it took to come to terms with the unfortunate reality often differed. Confusion was always the first emotion to hit, before denial struck. “ _How could I be dead?_ ” they would always ask and Tahl would simply remind them that nothing was infinite.

The task of helping newcomers adapt to their situation was not easy, but the Noorian was never one to take the easy path and, when the position was offered, she couldn’t say no. It gave her a purpose and, sometimes, allowed her to reunite with old friends. This time, however, the sadness tingeing this reunion with the last Padawan of her old friend couldn’t be banished. He was still so young and his passing had been so brief, so cold. It was wrong and unfair, but then life was often that way.

“I’m sorry,” Tahl whispered, knowing the words offered little help, but needing to say them anyway.

Obi-Wan’s gaze lifted from the floor, to meet hers once again and she could see the struggle in his green eyes. “What happened?” he asked, softly.

“I am afraid I cannot say,” she answered. “But rest assured that your memories will return in time.”

Despite the negativity of the answer, it was enough for the moment and she decided to attempt lightening the mood.

“I must say you have changed since last we met,” she remarked, moving her fingers to run through the strands that had grown long enough to skim his collarbones. A light dusting of stubble lined his jaw and Tahl had to admit he had grown into a very handsome young man. “You’re taller.”

A small smile graced his features, appreciation for her efforts not going unrewarded. “Not by much, I fear,” he said. “You are barely more than a couple of inches shorter than me.”

“Would it make you feel better to know that I am exceptionally tall for a woman?”

Obi-Wan’s smile widened. “Yes.”

Without warning, Tahl was gathered into a tight embrace. Unexpected, but not unwelcome, the Noorian returned the gesture, knowing she needed it as much as he.

“Come,” she said, stepping back and taking Obi-Wan’s hand in hers. “Let us see where we are.”

*

Time passed and Obi-Wan felt like a child seeing the world for the first time. _I suppose I am_ , he thought, as his eyes travelled across the scenery. It was beyond breathtaking. Having woken on the shores of a river lined with flowers more beautiful and dazzling than he had ever seen in life, Obi-Wan and Tahl’s subsequent journey had taken them to wide, open plains. The wind was stronger here, and the movement of leaves, petals and long blades of grass coalesced to create a soothing melody. Tall mountains stood majestically in the distance and great clouds of white and grey decorated a sunlit sky. It was like standing in the centre of a magnificent painting.

A memory came to Obi-Wan, full of detail, yet oddly indistinct. He couldn’t say where he was, but did know that he was surrounded by stunning examples of fine artwork. The subjects varied from piece to piece, but there was something in each that collaborated, giving the entire exhibit an overwhelming sense of harmony.

A person stood at his side-a man, Obi-Wan guessed-and he knew this person was important; _more_ than important. A feeling radiated from the mysterious figure, filling Obi-Wan with a sense of belonging he couldn’t explain. Having the man by his side felt right, as though the two had been created for the sole purpose of being together. A bizarrely strong thing to feel for a person whose face he couldn’t even see.

“What are your thoughts, Obi-Wan?”

The voice that reached the young man’s ears was quiet, but held the power to freeze him in place. Oh, what a sound! It invigorated him, sending his pulse soaring. He wanted to hear it again.

The prolonged absence of an answer prompted the man to repeat his question, granting Obi-Wan’s wish. He could listen to that voice forever. Unfortunately, the only way to get more of it was to engage in a proper conversation.

“I wasn’t really thinking about anything,” he said. _Besides your voice_ , he finished silently.

“Your eyes say differently, Love.”

Obi-Wan had to smile, amazed by the sheer level of affection heaped onto the sobriquet. It made his insides quiver and his stomach flip. That was certainly a dangerous power to possess, Obi-Wan mused.

“There is another piece,” his companion continued. “That I believe you might appreciate, located in the gardens. Would you like to see it?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Lead the way.”

The sky was dark when they exited the building (Obi-Wan suddenly remembered it to be a rather renowned art gallery) and began traversing a path more picturesque than the young man had ever imagined possible. With some species capable of cultivating such beauty from their home worlds, it made him wonder why others were so bent on destroying theirs.

Three moons adorned the night sky and it was the largest that attracted the most admiration. Perfectly circular and shimmering brightly, it emitted a purple light, which bathed the world below in delicate lilac. Obi-Wan promised himself to return to this particular planet, as soon as possible.

Following the tall figure a couple of steps ahead, Obi-Wan realised he was being led to the archway at the end of the path. The pair stopped beneath it, facing one another and there was no need to ask if this was the artwork mentioned. Expecting another large canvas, like the ones adorning the walls of the gallery they had just left, the truth was far more interesting. The archway was made of a stone found nowhere else in the galaxy. Microscopic gems were embedded within, making the entire structure glisten. Age had left its mark, with countless fractures blemishing the surface, but, rather than fix them, it had been decided to fill them with paints of various types and shades. It left a striking impression and Obi-Wan had to concur with his companion’s judgement. He liked it very much.

His eyes were transfixed on the ceiling, when that beautiful voice sounded again.

“I’m glad you approve,” he remarked, pleasure evident in his tone. “I did, however, have an ulterior motive for bringing you out here.”

The hesitance was slight, but Obi-Wan picked it up right away. His eyes lowered to the man and, although inexplicable unable to discern features, Obi-Wan knew without a doubt that the face before him was precious, far more so than any of the artwork he had seen that evening.

“Oh?” the young man replied, eyebrows rising.

“Yes. You see, as much as I enjoy the company of our hosts, I had hoped to get you alone.”

The unspoken suggestion behind the words sent Obi-Wan’s heart racing, as he licked suddenly dry lips. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but was always unable to resist the opportunity for a little light teasing. “And why would you want that?”

The man didn’t reply, but stepped closer, before dipping his head. Obi-Wan knew what was about to happen and his lips parted invitingly, as eyelids fluttered shut. Whatever the man’s voice did was nothing in comparison to taste. Obi-Wan savoured every last drop, his tongue catching the tang of wine and sweetness of sugar. Hairs tickled his top lip and the feelings motivating the kiss drove the young man to distraction. He may not have known the identity of his partner, but Obi-Wan knew without a doubt that the moment was nothing less than absolutely perfect.

“I love you,” came the breathless murmur.

“I love you, too,” Obi-Wan replied, before his lips were captured once more.

The memory faded, but the sensations it elicited did not and Obi-Wan ran a thumb across his bottom lip. “Where are we?” he asked, in desperate need of distraction.

It was the latest question to come from a famously curious mind and, not for the first time that day, Tahl found herself smiling fondly. With anyone else, she would have been surprised by the speed of adaption, but, unknown to Obi-Wan (and his former master), she had been keeping a close eye on the pair. Tahl had seen just how well the young man could adjust to any given situation and how strong a partnership he and his master had forged. The turn their relationship took, upon Obi-Wan’s Knighthood, had not surprised her in the least, but it was now the reason that an undercurrent of fear resided in her heart. As soon as Obi-Wan was ready, she would need to leave.

“This place has many names,” she said. “The Afterlife, Heaven and Spirit World are but a few.”

Blue eyes travelled across the scenery.

“I don’t think there is a word for something like this,” he declared, his voice quiet with awe. “Although, I suppose I should call it _home_.”

Since their walk began, Tahl had noted the rise in Obi-Wan’s mood, but the utterance of that last word had clearly struck a chord with the young man, because a frown was present once again. His steps faltered, before coming to a stop and an expression comprised of melancholy and longing crossed his features.

“Obi-Wan?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His eyes scanned the horizon, almost as if looking for something, before his focus gradually landed on the woman beside him.

“What is it?” Tahl asked.

Obi-Wan’s gaze lowered, as he spoke. “It…it’s nothing important,” he insisted.

Tahl placed a hand upon his shoulder. “If it makes you look like that, it must be.”

Obi-Wan took a breath, before lifting his eyes to the distance. “How does time compare between here and there?”

There was no need for him to elaborate on what he meant by _there_.

“It depends,” she replied. “For some, a lifetime of the living can pass here in the blink of an eye. For others, a minute can last an entire day. It all depends on what gains your focus.”

It was rather obvious where Obi-Wan’s focus was beginning to reside and, when his next question was uttered, it made her chest constrict with sadness.

“Is there any way to contact the living?”

Tahl remained silent for a while, thinking of how best to answer. It was perfectly possible, in a way, but many thought it best to refrain from doing so. Too many memories and emotions held the power to break more fragile minds and she knew it was far too early for Obi-Wan. He wasn’t ready and neither, she feared, was Qui-Gon.

Tahl had yet to see her old friend and there was no telling what state they might find him in. What if Obi-Wan didn’t like what he saw? The loss of Xanatos had struck the Jedi Master like a dagger to the heart. What damage had the loss of his beloved caused?

Obi-Wan could read the hesitation in her expression and he steadied himself, ready to fight his case if necessary. It wasn’t much that he asked for-just a way to send a message-to let the one he loved know he was alright.

“I…I don’t even have to speak to him, if you’d prefer.”

“What I’d prefer, Obi-Wan,” she replied, unaware of the motherly tone creeping into her voice. “Is for you to settle where you _are_ , before revisiting where you _were_.”

“I just want to see him,” Obi-Wan softly begged.

The further he got from the memory of that kiss, the more the face of the mysterious man came into focus. He saw the long hair, which had been a blurred block of solid colour, morph into individual strands of golden and chocolate brown, with hints of silver adding a surprise every now and then. Eyes of the warmest blue had gazed upon him, showering him with the sort of adoration reserved for the truly beloved. Words had been spoken by lips possessing a taste that was utterly divine.

The details all coalesced into the countenance of a man, whose presence had taken up residence in Obi-Wan’s soul.

Tahl watched him, saw the sorrow muddying his gaze, along with need. The young man’s death had been so sudden that there was no time for goodbyes. In fact, it wasn’t until several weeks after the fact that anyone was even aware that the young Knight had died. That, more than anything, saddened her.

“Please?”

And just how Tahl was supposed to ignore such a heartfelt plea, she didn’t know.

 


	3. Chapter 2

At twenty-eight years old, Obi-Wan Kenobi died. To those who knew him, it was a terrible loss. Having been granted his Knighthood just three short years earlier, the young man was the symbol of a promising future for the Jedi Order, an example of what hard work and perseverance could achieve. A powerful flame helping to keep the fires of honour and justice alight. None had expected such a bright light to be extinguished quite so soon.

And all it had taken was a single blaster bolt.

The skills of the healers at the Jedi temple were renowned, but there was little even they could do to restart a dead heart. For a man so cautious, Obi-Wan somehow developed a knack for attracting trouble and some had often remarked that it was only a matter of time until his luck ran out. Those people, in particular, had remained especially silent during the young Knight’s funeral.

There was no shortage of mourners present that day, as sunlight bathed a bustling city in such a way as to challenge any to think it not beautiful. Words were spoken, memories were shared and all believed that, however short, Obi-Wan’s service to the Force had been a blessing, one that would continue, even as his life could not.

All, except one man.

Stood at the back of the crowd, face shrouded in shadow and soul heavy with grief, he was surrounded by people, yet somehow apart. None approached him, none offered condolences or the age-old platitudes given by those desperate to overcome their own feelings of helplessness. If Obi-Wan’s passing had been a loss to them, then it was nothing short of tragedy for Qui-Gon Jinn. For fifteen years, he had known the young man, had been instrumental in helping him traverse the path from Padawan to Knight and there was nothing more powerful than the pride he had felt, upon seeing his former student emerge from the Hall of Knighthood, having completed the Trials. Nothing, but the intense love he bore him.

It was a difficult thing to do, losing one you loved and Qui-Gon was well aware of the murmurs surrounding him. Tahl’s untimely death many years ago had almost driven Qui-Gon to forget all he had spent his life serving, so naturally they wondered how he would cope with this.

The answer was _not very well_.

Never before had Qui-Gon known a pain like this. How was he supposed to survive such an endless onslaught of sorrow? How could he possibly function, when all he wanted was to curl into a ball and disappear into nothingness? How did anyone return to normality after suffering such a blow? The answers to those questions were not forthcoming and he doubted they ever would be.

He should have been there. They should have gone _together_. At Obi-Wan’s side was where Qui-Gon knew he belonged and the young man’s death only served as proof of that assertion. Qui-Gon could have saved him, _would_ have saved him. The world wouldn’t have to suffer the loss of such a warm, beautiful soul and the terrible, unending separation that was slowly tearing the older man to pieces from the inside out wouldn’t be happening.

Tears blurred the edges of Qui-Gon’s vision, as he watched the scene play out ahead, unable to truly focus on what was happening. Flames engulfed the still form lying atop the pyre and he had to inhale deeply, just to retain a semblance of composure. It wouldn’t do to see a revered Jedi Master break down in the middle of a funeral, even if every inch of him was desperate to simply fall to his knees and scream at the universe for its terrible injustice.

All manner of memories came to the grieving man. The scent of Obi-Wan’s wet hair after a shower, the taste of those lips beneath his own, the sound of his laughter…

It was too much. Without a word, Qui-Gon turned and walked away from the funeral, oblivious to the looks he received for such behaviour. To his mind, the ceremony was pointless. Everything was pointless. No matter what anyone said or did, it wouldn’t bring the young man back and, in the end, that was all Qui-Gon wanted. He wanted the warmth back in his heart, the light back in his life. He wanted Obi-Wan.

Only Obi-Wan.  


*

There was no way of recognising the feelings stirring inside the young man, as his eyes fell across things so very familiar to him, yet now completely lost. Never again would he perch himself atop the counter of the kitchenette, or lounge upon the settee after a long day. The floor would no longer be strewn with countless textbooks, as his eyes poured over them until they almost burned. Obi-Wan hadn’t expected to feel such a sense of loss over the last one, especially when he’d spent his entire time as a Padawan cursing the damn things.

Behind him, Tahl’s gaze also surveyed the quarters that had once belonged to two Jedi, but now only served one. Even though she was no longer fully corporeal, she could still feel the overwhelming sense of grief permeating the air. It was stifling and a bad sign. Although she knew how desperately Obi-Wan wanted to see Qui-Gon, she couldn’t help wishing the man wouldn’t show up.

A soft burst of laughter seized her attention and she looked over her shoulder, to find Obi-Wan holding a small sheet of flimsiplast. Curiosity piqued, she moved closer.

“What is it?” she asked.

It took a moment for his attention to be torn from the object in his hands and his brows rose, silently requesting a repeat of the question.

“I was wondering what made you laugh.”

“Oh,” he replied. “It’s nothing, really, just a silly thing I made him once, years ago.” Obi-Wan held the source of his amusement aloft.

Upon being handed the flimsi, Tahl discovered it to be decorated with a crude, but colourful drawing, clearly made during childhood.

“It was of our first official mission as Master and Padawan,” Obi-Wan explained, a whimsical expression on his face. “We went to Phindar and had to deal with a rather… _delightful_ fellow." The tone of Obi-Wan's voice made his sarcasm clear. "I was so proud and happy to have completed my first ever task, especially as, up until then, I didn’t even think I’d ever be a Padawan. That was my way of celebrating.”

Tahl smiled, caught up in the tale and easily able to imagine the boy, having just entered his teenage years, full of optimism and excitement.

“I didn’t realise he’d kept it.”

The sadness in that simple statement forced Tahl to place a comforting hand upon Obi-Wan’s shoulder, before handing the picture back to him. His fingers ran across it, as though using touch to commit it to memory and she remained silently by his side. This was going to be difficult for the young Knight and she sought to do all she could to ease him through it.

A hiss ensnared their attention and Obi-Wan span in the direction of the door, as Tahl braced herself for the moment she had dreaded since arrival. A tall outline made the man entering the room instantly recognisable, long before the large hood of a dark cloak obscuring his face was pushed back roughly and the heavy garment was removed completely. Flinging it unceremoniously to the floor, the Jedi Master strode to the kitchen, in order to make a drink.

The second his eyes fell upon Qui-Gon Jinn, it was as if the entire universe stopped. Obi-Wan was frozen to the spot. Unsure of how much time had passed since his death, it felt as though an age had gone by since he last gazed upon his former master. An unbearable urge pushed Obi-Wan to move closer. He wanted to touch the man, run fingers through that greying long hair and just hold him. The flimsiplast slipped from Obi-Wan’s fingers, as his feet took a step forward unbidden, before catching himself.

Qui-Gon, completely oblivious to his ethereal audience, had finished making his drink and was in the process of carrying it over to the coffee table behind Obi-Wan, when his eyes fell to the floor, halting all progress. Despite having hoped to see Qui-Gon’s face the moment he arrived, witnessing the heartbreak that suddenly seized the man was a sight Obi-Wan never wanted to experience again.

Taking slow, careful steps, Qui-Gon moved to the coffee table and put down his drink, but his eyes never left the spot of carpet that had ensnared his attention. Following the line of sight, Obi-Wan realised he was looking at the very object that had been the topic of conversation not moments ago. The older man crouched to the floor and reached for the fifteen-year-old picture.

The Jedi Master was less than a foot away and Obi-Wan was once again seized by the need to achieve some form of contact. His arm stretched outwards, but, just as his fingers were about to touch, the world seemed to evaporate, bathing him in a blinding white light.

*

When awareness returned, everything had changed. Gone were the familiar walls of former living quarters, to be replaced with trees and grass. It was hard to make out details, as cloud blanketed the night sky, blocking any light the moon could have provided. A large group of people was stood in a circle, all clad in long, dark cloaks, with hoods shielding the faces from view, although the object of their focus was clear. In the centre of the area, a large pyre was burning with flames that sought to reach the sky and an unpleasant feeling settled in Obi-Wan’s stomach.

“Perhaps you won’t want to see this,” Tahl said quietly, her voice coming from somewhere close behind. “This is your funeral.”

Why he would have been brought here, the young man couldn’t guess. He certainly had no desire to witness such an event, but a small part of him, the morbidly curious, wouldn’t let him leave. He was also afraid that, if he showed weakness here, Tahl would whisk him away and never let him come back.

“I…it’ll be alright,” he assured his companion, before moving forward.

Beginning at the outskirts, Obi-Wan made his way through the crowd, ducking to see each and every face that had chosen to attend. Some were expected, such as Master Yoda and Mace Windu. Other faces left him searching his brain for a name and one actually managed to make him smile. It was the only one who had forgone the hood, although that was more through necessity, rather than choice. Yarael Poof’s physiology didn’t exactly favour them.

As he made his way through the faces, there was one he hoped to see more than any other, yet was proving frustratingly difficult to locate. Where was Qui-Gon? Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan spotted movement from a part of the crowd he hadn’t yet reached and turned to see someone leaving. Could that have been him? The young man moved through the bodies, avoiding touch as much as possible; a funeral was hardly the place one wanted to be pushed and shunted by an unseen force.

Obi-Wan saw the retreating figure and there was no mistaking that purposeful stride. He followed, breaking into a jog in order to catch up. As it had in the living quarters, Obi-Wan’s arm reached out, ready to grab the taller man’s shoulder and, just as before, everything dissipated.

This time, rather than white, the young man was engulfed by darkness.

*

The first thing Obi-Wan felt, upon regaining consciousness, was the wind. It was cold and strong, whipping his hair across his face and, with the desire to actually see what was happening, he pushed the wayward strands behind his ear. When his view was no longer restricted, the Knight looked around and was graced with a landscape his eyes hadn’t seen since birth.

“Where..?” Obi-Wan’s question died in his throat, as the location sought to distract his thoughts.

“Stewjon,” Tahl replied.

His eyes widened in surprise and he looked over his shoulder at his companion. “You mean..?”

“Your home world, yes,” she nodded.

Obi-Wan’s expression swapped from shock, to a frown. “Why in the name of the gods are we _here_?”

Tahl shrugged, her innate elegance making the simple gesture far more graceful than it had any right to be. “I did not bring us here,” she informed him. “You did.”

The young man turned to fully face her. “What do you mean?”

“You are not aware of it, Obi-Wan,” she explained. “But it is you who controls this. We are going wherever you decide to send us.”

He considered the answer for a moment. It made sense to a point, he supposed. He’d asked to see Qui-Gon and had done so twice, albeit not for very long. Both encounters were in places that held significant relevance for Obi-Wan, even if visiting his own funeral was something he’d never planned-or wanted-to do. This third place, however, felt completely illogical. He hadn’t seen Stewjon, since being taken to the Jedi Temple twenty-eight years ago.

Obi-Wan felt Tahl’s hand at his shoulder and, this time, his own hand rose to clasp hers. A small smile graced his lips.

“Thank you,” he said, hoping to convey all his gratitude into those two small words.

Her returning smile was nothing short of beautiful, brimming with love and protection, leaving the man before her feeling very lucky indeed to have been gifted with such a guide.

“How about we take a look around?” she suggested.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had never given much thought to the place he had left to embark on the journey of Jedihood. Of course, leaving was never actually his choice, but, over the years, it had also never occurred to him that his life could be destined for anything else. It was simply the way of the world, at least it was for those born within the jurisdiction of the Republic, and very little reflection was required for him to know just how fortunate he was compared to many.

_Had been_ , he amended. Despite all that was happening, he was having trouble remembering the fact that he was now dead.

As the pair walked, the young man was finally able to see the planet, upon which his story had begun. The area they were in was picturesque, in a plain sort of way, with fields of yellowing grass stretching as far as the eye could see. No trees were in the vicinity and nothing resembling a town or city was visible from their vantage point. From Obi-Wan’s limited experience, Stewjon seemed to be undeniably peaceful, yet there was also a feeling of unending loneliness about the place that he couldn’t quite ignore.

“Why do you think we’ve ended up here, rather than at my family’s house?” Obi-Wan queried, their walk now entering a second hour.

“There must be something here you wish to see,” Tahl replied, offering her best and only guess.

“I cannot imagine why Qui-Gon would-”

Obi-Wan’s words faltered, as his gaze caught a shape in the far distance. It was so small, no more than a dark speck amongst pale grass and grey skies, but he knew what it was right away.

“He’s here!” the young man breathed, a smile of disbelief breaking across his face.

Embracing a pull, unlike anything he had ever felt before, Obi-Wan moved towards the figure standing alone. The closer he got, the easier it was to define a shape. The figure was clad in the dark brown robes of a Jedi Master and the wind made long hair dance in every direction. As his approached neared its end, a sense of panic filled Obi-Wan at the thought of being dragged away for a third time. All he wanted was one touch, one single moment just to say goodbye.

“Please don’t disappear,” he said, pleading with anyone or anything that might deign to listen.

_Don’t disappear. Don’t disappear. Don’t disappear!_

Stopping just a couple of feet short, Obi-Wan felt as though a hand had taken his heart, squeezing all life and function out of it. The blood no longer needing to pump through his veins seemed to roar past his ears and the first hint of moisture gathered in his eyes. To be so near to the man he loved and yet so very, very far…

Obi-Wan’s arm was outstretched, fingers trembling, as they grew steadily closer.

Just one touch. Just one…

The soft fabric brushed his fingertips and the shock and relief were so great, that Obi-Wan’s hand jolted back, as though struck by lightning. Qui-Gon’s head turned sharply, looking over his shoulder and the young man was sure that his former master had felt it, too. Eyes surrounded by heavy shadows scanned the landscape, seeming to search for whatever had touched him, but, when no evidence presented itself, Qui-Gon returned to his former position.

Encouraged, despite his confusion, Obi-Wan moved closer and circled, until he was facing Qui-Gon. The Jedi Master was now on his knees, head bowed, as though in meditation. His hands rested in his lap, loosely clutching something. Crouching down for a better look, Obi-Wan saw a hint of reddish-gold and the sorrowful realisation of what his former master carried cut into him like a dagger. There, clasped within large, strong hands, was the Padawan braid handed to Qui-Gon Jinn three years ago.

Tears gathered along Obi-Wan’s lashes, as his eyes moved upwards. The cloak was wrapped tightly around the man’s body, as protection from the cold and his hair was unbound-a rarity for Master Jinn. Were it not for the wind keeping it at bay, that greying mane would have completely hidden his face, which may have been the intent. The shadows seen previously, surrounding the eyes, were far more pronounced up close. Lines adorned the face, which hadn’t been there before, littering his brow and indicating that frowning had become a regular pastime. The hint of brown that always coloured Qui-Gon’s skin had vanished, leaving behind a pale, greyish complexion that did not belong on the man. He looked thoroughly exhausted!

An unmistakable depression was weighing Qui-Gon down. It seemed to pull at every part of him, as though trying to crush him into ash and Obi-Wan’s heart cried out, wishing there was something he could do. What he wanted was to gather the man tightly in his arms and never let go, to shower him with kisses and tell him that everything would be alright. Anything, if only to ease the desolation suffocating Qui-Gon Jinn.

“Qui…” he whimpered, anguish wrapping its arms around him.

Qui-Gon’s head shot up and his eyes flitted around wildly. “Obi-Wan?” he whispered, his voice hoarse from an obvious lack of use.

_Oh, surely not_ , Obi-Wan silently cried. It wasn’t possible for the man to have heard him…was it? Tahl was nowhere to be seen, so he couldn’t hope to gain any immediate insight, and there was no hope in any form of Heaven or Hell that Obi-Wan could resist trying again.

“Qui-Gon,” he said, unable to keep the tremor from his voice. “It’s me, I’m here.”

The fingers that had touched the cloak now ached to connect once more. Lifting his hand, Obi-Wan reached forward and, remembering the reaction last time, pressed the faintest of touches to Qui-Gon’s cheek. He was amazed to discover that it worked and felt no different than if he were alive. An expression of utter bafflement crossed the grieving man’s features, as he sought to understand what was happening.

“I’m here, Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan repeated, as tears rolled down his face. “I won’t leave you alone.”

Increasing the pressure, Obi-Wan slid his hand, in order to fully cup the man’s jaw, but, no sooner had he done so, than Qui-Gon lurched forward and let out an agonising howl. The younger man fell backwards, startled by the response and watched as Qui-Gon’s body shook with the force of uncontrollable sobbing. It was the most agonising of sounds, to hear the heart of one so dear shatter into a thousand pieces and knowing that he had been the one responsible. The sound would haunt Obi-Wan for eternity.

Numbed by shock and grief, he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes unable to look away, despite the unbearable sight.

“I…” he began, the words interrupted by sobs of his own. “I’m so sorry.”

For a long time, Obi-Wan stood there, torn between the need to comfort and the desire to end Qui-Gon's pain. When he could stand it no longer, Obi-Wan started walking, retracing the path he had made through the thick carpet of grass. Tahl was there, several feet away, waiting patiently. She made no move to approach, knowing this was Obi-Wan’s decision and he allowed himself one last glance back at Qui-Gon. The young man hoped to never face a moment more difficult than this, because, if he did, there was no way he would be able to survive it.

“Goodbye,” he whispered.

And, with those words echoing into oblivion, Obi-Wan Kenobi departed.  
****


	4. Chapter 3

_“Keep still!”_

_The command was given, with the intent of being authoritative. Unfortunately, the laughter dispersed throughout made that impossible._

_“I would," came the retort. "But someone keeps drilling razor blades into my head.”_

_“If anti-septic doesn’t hurt, it isn’t working,” Obi-Wan remarked, reaching for the bottle of liquid, before pouring a few drops onto the cloth in his hand._

_A sharp hiss escaped Qui-Gon’s lips, as it was pressed against his wounded temple once again. “So you always say. However, others might simply suggest you don’t know what you’re doing.”_

_“Well,” Obi-Wan countered, carefully dabbing at the bloody cut. “Any aspersions regarding my medical expertise are rendered null and void, by the sheer amount of practice you have provided over the years.”_

_“Impertinence is unbecoming in a Jedi Knight,” Qui-Gon warned good-naturedly, the eyebrow he had attempted to raise thwarted by yet another bout of sharp pain. “How much longer?” he snapped, although there was no real ire in the words._

_“I’d hope,” Obi-Wan replied, patiently. “That it is long enough for you to learn your lesson, but we both know it won’t be.”_

_“Lessons are for Younglings,” Qui-Gon said dismissively. “And I had a criminal to catch.”_

_“We both did,” Obi-Wan reminded him. “Yet some of us believe that assessing a situation renders far better results, than racing in like a bull in a china shop.”_

_“It worked, didn’t it?” Qui-Gon insisted, defensiveness creeping into his tone._

_“Luckily,” Obi-Wan replied with a chuckle. “Otherwise you would have looked quite the ass.”_

_The young man received nothing more than a hmmph in return and a wide grin spread across Obi-Wan’s face._

_“Grump,” he teased._

_A light swat to the arm was the reward for the young man, who was then prompted to ask how he had earned such mistreatment._

_“You may not be my Padawan any longer,” Qui-Gon said. “But I still outrank you. Show some respect.”_

_“Yes,_ Master Jinn _.”_

_“Brat,” Qui-Gon mumbled, in an attempt to ignore the way his stomach clenched ever-so-slightly at the other man’s teasing tone._

_Companionable silence fell upon the pair, as Obi-Wan finished tending to the gash on the right of Qui-Gon’s forehead. It was nothing too serious, but deep enough to release a disconcerting amount of blood, which had managed to work its way right down the Jedi Master's cheek and neck, to land at the throat. A serious expression covered the young Knight’s features, as he gave the wound a final assessment._

_“You’ll live,” he remarked, before cocking an eyebrow. “This time.”_

_Qui-Gon simply rolled his eyes at the unnecessarily dramatic tone._

_With a smile, Obi-Wan stepped away, heading for the other end of the bathroom, which was only a few feet away. Time restraints and desperation meant their current method of transportation was rather on the small, rudimentary side and thus did not possess a proper medical bay. The medical supplies aboard the ship were adequate, but a proper assessment by a trained healer would be required when they returned to the temple. That was, if they survived the severe dressing down expected to be unleashed upon them by Master Windu._

_To call their latest mission a complete and utter balls-up would have been the understatement of the millennium, Qui-Gon reckoned, but, despite it all, as the first mission given to the pair since his companion's Knighting, the older man was unable to consider the experience anything less than thoroughly enjoyable._

_Busy with the task of retrieving a fresh set of cloths, as well as a clean bowl of water, Obi-Wan was unaware of the gaze following his every move. Qui-Gon was more than capable of cleaning off the blood left by the wound himself, but Obi-Wan was evidently in full Mother Hen mode and, if entirely honest with himself, the older man rather enjoyed the attention. Not that such an admission would ever be given. Even a herd of Banthas wasn’t_ that _persuasive._

_The younger man resumed his previous position before the Jedi Master, with the cloths and bowl placed on a portion of the small mobile table that wasn’t occupied by Qui-Gon’s backside. With no form of seating available in the bathroom, they had been forced to wheel the table in from another room. Surveying the mess staining Qui-Gon’s face and neck, Obi-Wan reached forward and gently grasped a lock of long hair that had been stained a deep red._

_“I would offer to try washing some of the blood out,” Obi-Wan said, his face betraying no sign of the mischief running through his mind. “But it might just be easier to cut it.”_

_Qui-Gon’s eyes threw a warning to the young man, whose face simply broke into yet another grin._

_“Attachment is forbidden,” Obi-Wan chuckled, busying himself with the task of wetting a cloth._

_Qui-Gon let out a soft snort. “And if you desire your hand to stay attached to your wrist, you’ll leave the hair alone.”_

_More laughter erupted from Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon was once again trying his best to ignore the feelings running through him. It would have been easier had the younger man been deliberately trying to provoke a reaction, but Obi-Wan was being nothing more than his usual self; his usual, wonderful, charming self, which also happened to be seemingly oblivious to the effect he had on his former master._

_That had always been Qui-Gon’s intention, of course. The feelings he had for the young man were buried as deeply as possible, locked behind a heavily fortified shield that only the most persistent and powerful would have been able to crack. As Obi-Wan had just stated, attachment was indeed forbidden and, despite having bent and broken more than a few rules during his lifetime of servitude to the Jedi Order, there were some laws even Qui-Gon Jinn daren’t ignore._

_Sometimes, however, it was just so..._ difficult.

_The sensation of something warm and damp pressing against his cheek halted the older man’s train of thought, as Obi-Wan began cleaning away the blood. It had dried rather stubbornly in some places, but at no point was the young man anything less than careful and patient, more than happy to spend as long as necessary removing the red, to reveal the skin beneath. Fingers slid through hair, brushing it away from Qui-Gon’s face and tucking it behind the ear, before a hand gently cupped the bearded chin, tilting Qui-Gon’s head a little to gain a better view in the harsh fluorescent light. For one who had begun his apprenticeship burdened by a great aura of aggression, it was remarkable just how delicate Obi-Wan’s touch could be. It was even more difficult to ignore the way the thumb brushed softly against the hair littering Qui-Gon’s jaw, whose eyelids fluttered shut, before he could even stop them._

_“I still wish we could have ascertained what exactly went wrong,” Obi-Wan mused, commenting on the disastrous result of their mission, unaware-as always-of his companion’s struggle. “I thought the negotiations had been going rather well.”_

_Qui-Gon softly hummed an agreement, unwilling to let something as cumbersome as his own voice interrupt the enjoyment he received from Obi-Wan’s touch and elegant speech. It was wrong to experience such emotions, he knew, to hold such feeling for another, going against all he had been taught so many years ago, but it was so hard to remember when the object of his affection was so close. Besides, if he didn't_ act _on the feelings, surely it wasn't hurting anyone._

_Qui-Gon hadn’t always struggled. Throughout his life, the Jedi Master had encountered countless beautiful and accomplished people, had been the recipient of many a tempting offer, but, even amidst the throes of puberty, abstinence had reigned supreme. When attraction to the one he’d taken as his third apprentice first reared its confusing head, Qui-Gon had tried to ignore it, telling himself that Obi-Wan was just another pretty face to absently appreciate, before moving on. However, knowledge of the man behind the dimpled chin, sea green eyes and copper hair made that impossible. An astute, discerning mind, coupled with a sense of humour that was both cringe-worthy and absolutely endearing had culminated in a man capable of worming his way right into the centre of his tutor’s heart._

_And when the Padawan ascended to the rank of Jedi Knight, things had only become more difficult. As a student, Obi-Wan had often demonstrated admirable talent and skill, with his only true fault being an inclination towards over-thinking and caution. He had often proven to be a voice of reason, particularly during his master's more foolhardy moments, yet always retained the level of reverence expected of him. As a Knight, Obi-Wan's confidence had grown immeasurably and, no longer bound to Qui-Gon's wishes as a student, felt no qualms about voicing his honest opinion. It was a shock to the Jedi Master at first and they'd had more than a few spirited disagreements, but he soon found himself enjoying Obi-Wan's presence more than ever, as an equal, rather than subordinate. Qui-Gon sincerely hoped they were paired for many more missions in future._

_A finger pressed against the underside of Qui-Gon’s chin and he lifted his head, allowing the other better access to his throat. The hand that had been at his jaw slid round to rest at the nape of his neck and Qui-Gon’s eyes flew open, all too aware of the position they were now in. Obi-Wan was directly in front, stood in the space between parted knees, with his bowed head mere inches away. They were so close and it would be so easy to simply lean forward…_

_Qui-Gon swallowed the nerves, hoping the action was small and subtle enough to go unnoticed. He'd been in similar positions before, so it was ridiculous for his resolve to crack now. He wanted to close his eyes again, but knew it would do no good. At least vision could provide some sort of distraction. The blue gaze settled on the tiled wall ahead and absolutely did not stray towards the man in front whatsoever. The Jedi Master was torn between the desire to revel in the treatment he received at the hands of the younger man and hoping it wouldn’t last much longer. There were few forms of torture that could match this._

_Obi-Wan continued the task of cleaning Qui-Gon, the infuriatingly pleasant touch seeming to last forever, until, eventually, the cloth was pulled away and dropped onto the table. The hand at the back of Qui-Gon’s neck, however, remained._

_“All done, I think,” Obi-Wan declared, pale green eyes studying the cleaned area._

_Qui-Gon was about to offer his thanks, when a finger brushed the hollow of his throat and the older man almost laughed at the injustice; there was only so much he could take, for crying out loud!_

_“Sorry,” the Knight apologised, perhaps noting the other man’s discomfort, a small smile crossing his lips. “I missed a bit.”_

_Qui-Gon didn’t respond; he couldn’t. His senses were being attacked from all angles and, if he opened his mouth now, there was no telling what might come out. All Obi-Wan had to do was move that_ damned hand _and Qui-Gon might be able to regain some semblance of composure. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on one’s point of view) the young man showed no sign of releasing the gentle, yet powerful grip._

_Qui-Gon Jinn had always prided himself on possessing a rather impressive Sabacc face, so it was to his great surprise and dismay that Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed into a frown._

_“Qui-Gon?” he said softly, his concerned gaze searching the other man’s face._

_Green met blue and Qui-Gon knew the exact moment his secret had been revealed. The pulse he’d worked so hard to control went haywire and panic flooded his veins. Timing and location couldn’t have been worse for the revelation to be made. On such a small ship, there was nowhere to hide and a sense of shame washed over the older man, when he considered just how a young, attractive person might feel, realising someone thirty five years their senior harboured such feelings._

_Qui-Gon knew the only way to salvage the situation was directly; an apology, followed by a brief explanation if necessary, ending with assurances that it would have no effect on their working relationship whatsoever. The shock of discovery was so great and the older man was so lost in his own turmoil that he failed to register the meaning behind the other's expression, as green eyes travelled across his face._

_Just as Qui-Gon's mouth opened to speak, the words were silenced before they could even be uttered, by fingers pressing against his lips. The contact was light, almost a whisper against the skin, but it held a charge more powerful than an electrical storm._

_The fingers silencing Qui-Gon moved, as the hand at his nape slowly slid round, to cradle his face and it was then that the Jedi Master finally registered the look on his former Padawan's face. The expression was so soft and sweet that it left him breathless. For many years, the older man had imagined how it would feel to bear that gaze, as it bathed him with an affection matching that which he had harboured for so long; imagined, wished, yet never truly believed such a thing would occur._

_All Qui-Gon could register was the feel of fingertips against his skin, and eyes of the most dazzling ocean green studying every inch of the face before them. Obi-Wan's fingers started to roam the older man's countenance, tracing lines and following curves, as though creating a map and using touch to commit it to memory. When thumbs started traversing the outline of his lips, Qui-Gon saw the colour of the young man's eyes darken almost imperceptibly and the bond between the pair, which hadn't weakened in the slightest, despite the cessation of their training partnership, suddenly thrummed with emotion. Qui-Gon knew it hadn't come from him, which meant that his companion was either unaware of the broadcast, or had simply chosen to lower the shields that were evidently as well-constructed as the Master's._

_For a long moment, everything stopped. Time paused, sound died and Qui-Gon was unable to fully process the newly-acquired knowledge, too afraid to believe it._

_When the seconds began ticking by once more, Obi-Wan had somehow come even closer. Their noses were almost touching, their breath mingled and Qui-Gon, powerless to resist, just closed his eyes and waited._

_Lips touched and Qui-Gon knew his universe was forever changed._

_The contact was gentle and, without vision, all other senses were heightened. The shock of the moment left Qui-Gon abandoned by all sense and reason, which would later be the only explanation he could provide for acting as he did._

_When Obi-Wan’s lips opened to capture the other’s more fully, there was no hesitation in reciprocation and Qui-Gon gladly welcomed the chance to deepen the kiss._

_No sooner had they done so, than the moment was shattered by the harsh baying of an electronic alarm. The pair leapt apart, both breathing heavily and Qui-Gon looked over his shoulder, at the source of the interruption. The ship had just come out of hyperspace and Qui-Gon glared at the device, overwhelmed with a confusing mixture of frustration at its timing and gratitude._

_When his gaze turned back around, Obi-Wan was gone._

*

The Room of a Thousand Fountains was a place sought by many of the Jedi Order. For those so attuned to the inner workings of life, yet living in the centre of a mechanical metropolis, the tranquil gardens provided a small space of nature that would help to ease more than a few troubled minds. There were not many minds, however, which had been quite as troubled as that of the tall, grieving man, resting on a low rock.

A darkness was welling up inside Qui-Gon Jinn. He kept it hidden as best he could, erecting impenetrable shields, so that nobody could sense what was happening. He knew their fears, but it wasn’t the darkness that had threatened to claim him before. No, this was very different. It was something that enveloped one with a sense of complete and utter despondency, sapping every last ounce of cheer from the soul and replacing it with despair.

Three weeks had passed, since the funeral of Obi-Wan Kenobi and more often did the Jedi Master feel the need to sit alone, drowning in thoughts that grew ever bleaker. It was a form of self harm that had quickly become addictive, running through memory after memory of the man he loved, terrified to forget a single moment, regardless of the agony it caused. However painful the memories of his time with Obi-Wan could now be, he would much rather spend his time daydreaming of the past, than being reminded of the grim present.

That memory of their first kiss was particularly painful, the recollection that much sharper in his mind, as it was the very beginning of their love affair. That was the moment Qui-Gon had first learnt of his former Padawan’s love, their anniversary, so to speak. They had only managed to celebrate three.

A presence made itself known in the corner of his consciousness. Someone was entering the gardens, which signalled the Master’s time to leave. Qui-Gon stood and, wrapping his cloak about himself, left.

 


	5. Chapter 4

It had begun as any normal day should.

Above a bustling metropolis, the surrender of night forced deep indigo to fade into baby blue. Pink, orange and yellow soon joined to paint the sky in beautiful shades of sunrise, and beings of assorted size, shape and colour awoke, allowing Temple life to begin.

A difference was soon noted, however, when Qui-Gon Jinn emerged from his bed. For the first time in five months, the overwhelming weariness that refused to subside wasn’t quite so insurmountable. His soul, encumbered with grief, was somehow ever so slightly lighter than before and the headaches constantly accompanying him had alleviated to a dull niggle at the back of the mind. The Jedi Master wasn’t sure what had caused the change, or why its occurrence was so sudden, but he had to admit the alteration was a welcome one; he wasn’t sure he could have endured the struggle much longer.

When his eyes fell upon the reflection facing him in the small mirror, Qui-Gon felt as though he was seeing himself for the very first time. The face staring back was barely recognisable. Deep, dark circles surrounded tired blue eyes and heavy lines sat upon his brow, skin but a pallid mockery of former vitality. The hair hanging loosely over his shoulders was coarse and lifeless; not entirely unlike the owner.

This could not continue. With determination not seen in the man for quite some time, the Jedi Master set about returning himself to former glory. Judging by the state of the mane hanging from his head, the first task ahead was to have a damned good shower. Stepping into the cubicle that had never been quite big enough for a man of his size, Qui-Gon set the water temperature to its hottest setting, hoping the heat would provide an element of cleansing catharsis. It almost succeeded.

Next came the task of neatening a beard that was becoming entirely too unruly. It was probably a good thing Qui-Gon had avoided social interaction recently, as passers-by would have likely mistaken him for some sort of vagrant. Speaking of which, it was high time a fresh set of tunics saw the outside world; his others were starting to look a little worse for wear.

After almost an hour of grooming and preparation, Qui-Gon looked into the mirror and was instantly surprised by the difference. Gone was the haggard old man, to be replaced with Jedi Master Jinn-albeit one in need of about a week’s sleep. He could only pray it lasted.

“A surprise it was, to hear from you,” Grand Master Yoda remarked, upon seeing his Great-Padawan’s frame enter the meditation chamber, later that day.

It had taken forty four bi-weekly invitations to meditation, for the diminutive Jedi’s request to finally be granted and, beneath Qui-Gon’s annoyance at the relentless harassment, lay a sliver of appreciation. So many others had given up, which was to be expected when calls went constantly unanswered, but the green troll’s obstinacy was more than equal to Qui-Gon’s. A cause was never truly lost, until Master Yoda offered surrender.

Qui-Gon said nothing, but moved forward, taking the low seat opposite the elderly Master. Keeping hands linked together beneath the folds of his dark robe, the tall man crossed his long legs and took a deep breath, waiting for whatever further discussion Yoda might initiate. Although this was labelled as a session of meditation, there would undoubtedly be talk involved. The elderly creature was never one to let things fester.

“A long time it has been, since last we talked. Understand why, I do, but missed you, I have.”

There was no reprimand in the small Master’s tone; he was simply letting the other know that, however great his isolation might seem, Qui-Gon was _not_ alone. The taller Jedi nodded, unable to think of a suitable response. What could he say?

“How feel you?”

Normally, such a question would have sent Qui-Gon running for the hills; the last thing he ever felt like doing was dwelling on the sorrow. Today, however, had already proven to be different in every way and, after a concerted effort, the Master cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak.

“Less tired.”

The response was succinct and Yoda accepted it with a slow nod.

“More presentable, too, I see.”

Qui-Gon’s lips twitched at the remark, but fell short of stretching into an actual smile.

A prolonged silence fell between the pair and both Jedi took it as a signal to begin their mutual meditation. With so long having passed since he spent any significant amount of time in the company of another, Qui-Gon found it difficult to quiet his mind. Master Yoda had always possessed a strong Force signature and it swirled about the room, touching everything in its path, including Qui-Gon himself.

It was with Obi-Wan that the long haired man had last engaged in joint meditation and it felt odd, almost like a betrayal, to do so with someone else. There was no real justification to the feeling and Qui-Gon could only assume it was a remnant of the grief, rebelling at the notion of its bearer finally moving on. Despite knowing this, the undercurrent of fear refused to be quashed, no matter how hard Qui-Gon tried to ignore it. There was a good reason he hadn’t meditated for almost five months and, although accepting Yoda’s summons was a step in the right direction, only a fool would have believed it to be a sign that everything was back to _normal_.

It was after over half an hour of trying that the frustrated Master finally gave up.

“To find inner peace, possess it first, you must.”

Yoda’s voice was barely above a whisper, but, against the overwhelming silence of the room, it possessed the power of a shout. The other Master almost physically jolted at the sound, eyes snapping open. He was confronted with the sight of a small, green creature, far older than any other being Qui-Gon had ever met, giving him a look that nobody else could. It was a deeply searching, yet contemplative gaze, that never failed to make those beneath it squirm, even if only a little.

“A deep connection, you and Kenobi had,” Yoda said. “But, until recently, know its true depth, I did not.”

Qui-Gon remained silent, his chin lifting a fraction, a hint of the defiance that had become a defining feature of his personality shining through. There was no mistaking the meaning behind the words and he was left to wonder whether it was castigation, rather than comfort, about to be offered.

“The love between you and your former apprentice was strong.”

Qui-Gon nodded, knowing denial was futile.

“Forbidden, attachment is.”

Another nod. Castigation it was, apparently.

“Lead to the Dark side, it does. On that front, the Code is clear.”

Certain better uses for his time could be found, Qui-Gon was ready to stand and leave the room, rather than listen to Master Yoda state the obvious.

“But, misinterpreted, the Code often is.”

The unexpected “but” was enough to keep Qui-Gon in his seat.

“Confused with many things, attachment can be. Love is one of them. Whilst similar, they may seem, born of different motivations, they are.”

The defensiveness in Qui-Gon’s bearing began to ebb, as he listened to Yoda’s words.

“Selfishness, possession, greed…the symptoms of attachment, they are. Thinking only of themselves, are those who give in to it. But love- _true_ love-compassion, empathy and understanding does it bring. The desire to place another before yourself; the _truest_ calling for any Jedi, that is.

“Quick to love, you always were, Qui-Gon. A flaw, your Master thought, but share that sentiment, I do not. Not until the passing of Tahl did I ever fear it might be to your detriment.”

Qui-Gon had to close his eyes at the mention of his dearest friend. He didn’t think his heart could cope with remembering _that_ grief, on top of the loss of his lover.

“Yet, love it was that saved you then, also. Pull you away from darkness, your Padawan did and forever shall he have my gratitude for doing so.”

Eyes still closed, Qui-Gon bowed his head, torn between the desire to flee and a desperate need to stay and hear the wise words of the aged creature. Moisture was gathering along the lashes, framing haunted blue eyes and the moment of breakdown wasn’t far away.

Still Yoda continued. It was relentless and the constant use of the word _love_ was like a sharp dagger, twisting and wrenching untold pain from the gut of the tall man. Every mention of Obi-Wan brought untold memories to the fore, reminding him of all that was now lost. What was the point of this? Breathing started to become difficult, as Qui-Gon tried to restrain his emotions and keep the tears at bay. He couldn’t give in to it here, of all places. He _couldn’t_! Had he known exactly what lay in store, Qui-Gon would never have agreed to this session.

“Controlling emotion does not mean you must hold it in forever.”

And that was when the damn burst. A sob wrestled its way free and escaped into the quiet air, as Qui-Gon, with his head bowing even further downwards, started to weep. Before there was even a chance to stop it, the grief came flooding out and he clapped a hand over his mouth, to silence the whimpers. It was a marvel there was any left to purge, as he’d lost count of all the times he had fallen to the floor in fits of sorrow. Of course, never had it happened before in front of witnesses, which only served to add a layer of shame to the mourning.

What the Grand Master thought of such a display, there was no way of knowing, because Yoda remained still and silent throughout the episode. No condolences were offered, no words of comfort, or soothing promises that things would get better. He simply let the tears flow and waited until the other Master’s sobbing had quietened to unsteady sighs.

Qui-Gon felt gentle pressure applied to his right shoulder and looked up to see Yoda stood before him. His arm was stretched upwards as far as possible, allowing the three-fingered hand to offer a gentle physical comfort the man hadn’t even realised he needed. Looking into those large amber eyes, Qui-Gon saw nothing but understanding, which surprised him. Hadn’t Qui-Gon broken some of the most sacred parts of the Code? Even if love wasn’t forbidden, surely the crushing distress colouring his soul went against the impassivity the Jedi were noted for.

“Better it is, sometimes, to release what we are feeling,” Yoda murmured, as though reading the other’s thoughts. “Become lost, you can, if grief is left to fester. Wish you had spoken to me sooner, I do, about your heart’s troubles. Sad, I am, to see you this way.”

“I…” Qui-Gon began, before taking in a deep breath and using the sleeve of his cloak to dry his face. It was an oddly child-like gesture and proof of just how lost and vulnerable the revered Jedi Master had become. “I’m sorry.”

“Apologise, you need not,” Yoda declared, his grip on the other’s shoulder loosening, before the hand fall back to the pocket-sized creature’s side. “But, speak to me, I feel you should, if do so, you can. Help you to let go of some of these feelings, I believe it will.”

So Qui-Gon did. Time passed by unacknowledged, as Master Jinn finally opened up and released the immense melancholy threatening to crush his soul. It was hard, at first, especially voicing the darker thoughts that had clouded his mind. With every admission, Qui-Gon expected to see some form of disapproval cross the Grand Master’s features, but none ever came. Yoda simply remained perched on his seat, listening intently to all that was said.

It was unexpectedly liberating to finally speak of his grief, to be able to tell another that he sometimes found the task of breathing a chore. When talk turned to his relationship with Obi-Wan, there was no hesitation, as Qui-Gon relayed all the little moments that had made him grow to love the remarkable boy entrusted to his care. When the memory of how their romantic relationship had begun was aired, it was the first time in five months that a smile crossed Qui-Gon’s lips. The expression felt alien to him, but Yoda silently noted how it had removed almost a decade from the man.

By the time their discussion was over, Qui-Gon was surprised to note that the sun was coming close to the horizon. It had been early afternoon when he arrived. Could he really have been so oblivious to the passage of time?

“Feel better, do you?” Yoda asked, when Qui-Gon finally rose to his feet.

Qui-Gon considered the question for a moment, wanting his answer to be nothing less than absolutely honest. It wasn’t an easy one to find, as he was still reeling from the effects of the day’s events. Things certainly hadn’t turned out the way he expected.

“Perhaps,” he eventually said. “I cannot say what tomorrow will bring, but, possibly for tonight, I shall sleep a little more soundly.”

Yoda offered a sagely nod. “Remember, you must, that I am here, if to talk again, you wish.”

“I will,” Qui-Gon promised, his torso turning to leave, before he stopped himself. “I…I must thank you, Master. I didn’t realise how much this was needed.”

“Made plans, have you, Qui-Gon?”

The man looked at Yoda, trying to ascertain the motive behind the query. It was an unnecessary question, as the Grand Master knew full well his Great-Padawan had ceased to live a life that needed plans. Qui-Gon decided not to answer with words, but rather a quick shake of the head.

“Wish to be alone, do you? Unable to help, meditation may have been, but another idea, I have.”

That idea turned out to be a visit to the Jedi temple’s crèche. Qui-Gon had guessed the destination early on into their journey, and his first instinct was to turn and race in the opposite direction. What good would the presence of a man riddled with depression do children? They were so vibrant and full of life, their souls undimmed by harsh realities they had yet to face. Having only just mustered the energy to leave his quarters, Qui-Gon felt in no way prepared to face a room full of children.

Yet, despite the urge to flee, the tall man never did. He remained at Master Yoda’s side and, upon reaching the crèche, did indeed cross the threshold, but made a concerted effort to inhabit the outskirts of the room. His initial fear of being bombarded by Younglings was, thankfully, unfounded, as they were all far too eager to greet the small, green Jedi who visited often and possessed an endless supply of patience. It probably helped that he was, for the most part, on eye level with the youths, making him seem far more one of them, than any of the other Jedi.

Yoda herded the children to an empty space in the centre of the room, before calling for hush. The children obeyed, before seating themselves before him, their eyes glistening with wonder and anticipation.

_Oh, to be young again._

Qui-Gon watched, as Yoda called several objects to him with the Force and began an impromptu lesson of basic Force control. The ages of the children in this part of temple varied from newborn to four, so they were suitably impressed, when the brightly coloured blocks began floating in mid-air. One girl, with violet skin that shimmered in the light, audibly gasped in delight and, without realising it, Qui-Gon’s lips had curled ever so slightly, into the beginnings of a smile.

The lesson lasted about an hour, as the Younglings all took turns trying to move the objects. Qui-Gon, from his vantage point on a bench in the corner, watched and, surprisingly, found some of the tension, that had taken root over the past few months, begin to subside. The Living Force was undeniably strong in the crèche, which was to be expected by creatures too young to have developed the skill of shielding. It wove around them, infusing them with the essence of life, tendrils reaching out to embrace all it came into contact with. There was innocence to their young souls that Qui-Gon wished he could remember owning. There were no ulterior motives fuelling their actions and they allowed themselves to enjoy the world around them freely, the unbridled curiosity adding a gleam to their eyes, which would dull with age.

Qui-Gon found it somewhat refreshing to be surrounded by such ingenuousness and, despite their excitable natures, there was an overwhelming calm permeating the air. So long had he dwelled on the darkness and misery claiming every inch of him, that he’d all but forgotten the light shining right outside his door.

Once the blocks were all returned to the floor at the Grand Master’s feet, Yoda reached into one of his cloak pockets, to produce a small silver orb. With a wave of his clawed hand, the blinds lowered and the light in the room dimmed. The children, intrigued by the change in their surroundings, all waited with rapt attention. The orb, which was still clutched in Yoda’s hand, then rose into the air and settled roughly a foot above Yoda’s head. It started to spin, slowly, at first, before quickly increasing in speed.

When it was moving fast enough to create a low hum, the silver orb split open, before ejecting hundreds of tiny beads of light into the air. A collective gasp rose from the children, as they watched the incandescent specks suspended above them. Blue to begin with, the lights started changing colour, moving through the spectrum at a gentle pace. It was mesmerising and more than a few mouths hung open in awe.

That wasn’t the end of the display, though, as Yoda began manipulating the lights into all manner of patterns. The glistening young eyes followed every motion, utterly enraptured and, when the lights started to move amongst the children, a chorus of giggles erupted. With no more than a word of encouragement needed, the Younglings began to chase the lights all over the room, jumping up and down, their small palms flying through the air, as they attempted to catch them. Such simple joy and it was clear by the Grand Master’s face that he enjoyed it as much as them.

A soft chuckle reached Qui-Gon’s ears and, with a start, he realised the sound had come from his own mouth. It had been so long since anything remotely resembling laughter had last escaped his lips, and the emotion accompanying the realisation caused his eyes to moisten. How long would it be before he felt joy again? How long would the pain _last_?

The Master had loved his former Padawan with every fibre of his being-still did-and it was such a beautiful, invigorating love, unlike anything else he had ever experienced. Their connection was ingrained into his very existence…but should someone have to break in half to love another? At no point had Qui-Gon prepared himself for the reality currently assaulting him and to feel so bereft was truly frightening. He needed a purpose, to find something that would offer his mind a new occupation, because, as he’d acknowledged earlier, things simply couldn’t continue as they were any longer. Something would have to give and Qui-Gon had a feeling it would be him.

Across the room, Master Yoda’s gaze finally settled on Qui-Gon. The small Jedi’s study was quick, but, whatever he saw obviously pleased him, because he gave a small nod of the head, before returning his attention to the Younglings.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to warn readers now, in case there are any who don't like reading about the subject, but this chapter will deal with suicidal thoughts and the act itself. It's in no way graphic and doesn't even contain a scene of it happening, but the topic is there, plain as day.

_Dearest Obi-Wan,_

_I do not know why I am writing this. You will never see it. Perhaps I simply need some way to release my thoughts and, as talking to myself will only further prove my insanity to everyone, I must resort to writing a letter nobody will ever see._

_I should like to take all the credit for this idea, but, alas, I cannot, as it was Master Yoda who provided the first push towards this course of action. He suggested I begin keeping a journal, as a way to help me through my grief. Until now, I scoffed at the idea. What good would a few scribbles on flimsiplast do?_

_However, tonight I find myself willing to try_ anything _, if only to lessen the pain. If it is possible for words to remove even a fraction of this grief, then I shall write until my fingers bleed._

_I do not know how this day unravelled on me._

_I was so proud of having held things together this past fortnight. It has been a very long time since I last spent any amount of time with Younglings. In fact, the last time was when I first saw you._

_I wonder if you remember._

_The children truly are delightful; a breath of fresh, simple air. They would gladly offer you the world, were it theirs to give, the only price being undivided attention. I’ve lost three robes to the horrors of lurid paint and have smiled more in the past fourteen days, than I have in the last five months._

_But, tonight, I have begun to lose it. The days have been filled with such vibrancy and delightful sound, that returning to a place of darkness and silence is quickly becoming unbearable. But there is nowhere else to go. If I stay, I am haunted, but to leave would be to let go of the most important thing to me._

_I have fought so hard and, at one stage, thought I might be winning, but no more. Coming ho-_

_No, I cannot call these quarters home. You are not here and, without you, nothing shall ever feel like home again._

_Perhaps this is my punishment. After all, had I been there with you, none of this would have happened. I should have_ been there _, should have_ protected you _. Together is where we belong, you said so yourself, but I didn’t listen. I was needed elsewhere and you were more than capable of dealing with the situation alone. It is my greatest failure and I’m now paying the price. I will pay it gladly, for it is no less than I deserve. I hope someday that you shall forgive me and, wherever you are, I can only pray that you are now happy and free from any pain._

_I didn’t get to say goodbye. That, more than any other thing, shall haunt me to the end of days and beyond. The only thing I can console myself with is the fact that, right up to your dying day, you knew you were nothing less than absolutely loved._

_You still are, Obi-Wan, my heart, my love, my soul._

_I love you._

_I miss you._

_Please forgive me._

*

Something struck Obi-Wan, unseen and unexpected. It tore into him, like a boulder to the heart, wrenching the very breath from his lungs. Pitching forward, one hand shot out to brace the Knight’s fall, as another clutched at the fabric covering the young man’s chest. Obi-Wan gasped and pain blazed across his entire body, causing tears to spill down his cheeks.

There was nobody around to help, even if he had been capable of asking for it. Tahl had left hours ago, called to some other region of the Afterlife, to help Death’s latest victim acclimate to their new surroundings. Fire raged in his soul, threatening to tear his body apart and Obi-Wan finally managed to let out a furious scream.

All at once, the pain subsided, the fire extinguished and the pieces of his heart that had been trying to separate fell back together again. Obi-Wan collapsed to the floor, a trembling, panting mess. For a long time, he just lay there, unable to summon the energy to move. It was as if an unimaginably heavy weight was pressed against his back, keeping him in place. His limbs felt lifeless and blinking was even an effort.

Rain started to hit the floor and, gradually, Obi-Wan regained control over his body. Carefully, he levered himself up onto hands and knees. His arms trembled slightly from the effort and he allowed them a moment, before finally sitting upright once more.

A wave of numbness came just as suddenly as the pain. It wasn’t the physical sort, but emotional. An overwhelming sense of emptiness pervaded his centre, wrapping itself around the space where a light more brilliant than a thousand suns had once shone. It was a space precious to Obi-Wan, the tether anchoring him to the other half of his existence, the one good thing carried with him into the Afterlife.

And it had gone.

A cold wind surrounded Obi-Wan, as he buried his face in his hands and wept.

*

The dreadful discovery was Yoda’s.

It was with a heavy beat of his heart that he travelled down the long halls of the Temple, his only accompaniment the quiet whirring of his hover chair, as he sought to confirm with sight what he’d felt through the Force. Several offers were made to accompany him, but the Grand Master wanted to do this alone.

To think only two weeks had passed, since his quiet, but emotionally wrought meeting with Qui-Gon Jinn. Never had Master Yoda expected this to be the outcome. It was so completely at odds with the shimmer of positivity that he had glimpsed, just as Qui-Gon exited the meditation chamber that evening and Yoda wondered what could have possibly gone so very wrong afterwards.

The living quarters were deathly silent, as the small Jedi entered. For all intents and purposes, the lounge looked as neat and tidy as he’d expected, save for the small pile of dirty clothing near the door and a solitary cup resting, half-full, on the small coffee table. There was a sheet of flimsiplast beside the cup, but Yoda refrained from investigating any further. The room was unimportant.

His attention turned to the closed door of the bedroom. Yoda knew exactly what lay in wait for him behind it and the small creature steeled himself, unsure if even his many centuries of experience would be preparation enough.

With a soft hiss, the door opened and there, lying on his back in the centre of the bed, was Qui-Gon Jinn. To the unaware, the Jedi Master would have appeared to simply be sleeping, but a moment of examination would have quickly proven otherwise. The body was too still and the aura enveloping the room was far from peaceful. It left a cloying, sickly taste in Yoda’s mouth, but he forced himself to endure it for as long as possible.

Moving closer, his amber eyes travelled the well-known face of the maverick, who had caused more than a few headaches for the Council over the years. Although frustrating at the time, Yoda always looked back on those times with an element of fondness. At least Council meetings involving Qui-Gon had never been boring.

The blinds covering the bedroom windows were drawn, but slivers of daylight managed to slip through the gaps, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. It gave the expressionless features of the man an angelic aspect, although the lines of anguish, whilst reduced, still remained. The troubles driving Qui-Gon to such an end clearly had yet to abandon their victim.

Qui-Gon’s hands were clasped together, resting on his broad chest. Between them was an object and, without disturbing anything, Yoda took a closer look. It was a small, black rock and the significance was lost on the elderly Jedi, but he made no move to retrieve the object. Whatever it was, it clearly held some importance to Qui-Gon, although none now would ever know what that might be.

Yoda said his goodbyes and, ensuring the tears had dried, left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hurt me! Things WILL get better, I promise! I love this pairing too much to make them suffer forever.  
> This chapter wasn't easy to write and I hope it isn't a complete piece of crap, but it needed to be written and I'm glad to have it out of the way and posted, so that the story can progress! Hopefully, the next will be better, as it's mostly written and just needs a few finishing touches, before posting.


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm warning you all now that this chapter is quite long, but, after how short and angsty that last one was, I'm hoping that'll be a good thing.  
> I have borrowed dialogue from the movie for this chapter, as I can’t find a better way to describe what’s happening. I’ve done my best to adapt it, rather than simply copying the dialogue outright, so hopefully it won’t be an issue for anyone. To be honest, I’d use the entire bloody film’s transcript, if I could-I love it so much!

Sat alone in a room that looked remarkably similar to the quarters he had lived in for fifteen years, Obi-Wan Kenobi was assaulted by fear and confusion. There had to be a reason for the sudden snap in the bond between he and Qui-Gon. Had something happened to his former Master? For a heart whose use was now defunct, Obi-Wan’s certainly kept finding reasons to race.

The young man hadn’t the means of returning to the world of the living to ascertain the truth for himself, which was why he was now pacing back and forth, impatient for Tahl’s return. Where was she? Obi-Wan had no way to contact her, unsure how communication should work in the Afterlife and, at one point, in sheer desperate frustration, had simply cried out her name at the top of his voice.

Eventually, the woman’s familiarly elegant figure approached and, unwilling to wait even the short minute it would take her to reach him, Obi-wan ran towards the Noorian.

“Tahl, something-”

The remainder of the sentence died on Obi-Wan’s lips, as his widening green eyes saw the expression on her face. It was one of practised neutrality, the sort used to hide one’s pain from another.

“What is it?” he asked, his gaze intently studying her.

Tahl’s chest rose and fell slowly with the act of taking a deep breath. Her eyes fell to the ground, before she let out a soft sigh. When her gaze found his once more, the quiet sorrow within them froze the young man.

“Sit down, Obi-Wan,” she requested, her tone gentle, despite brokering no argument.

He obeyed, even though every part of him was screaming for answers. A low bench served as seating for the pair, with Tahl’s body angled sideways, to better face her companion, hands resting in her lap.

“We’re about to go through something very difficult,” she began, her dazzling eyes bright and shining in her discerning face. “Now, I am with you, Obi-Wan, remember that. You are not alone.”

Obi-Wan nodded, wishing for the sake of his sanity that she would simply _tell him_.

“Qui-Gon is dead.”

Three words. That was all it took for the young man’s entire existence to come crashing down. At first, the words didn’t settle, as Obi-Wan’s brain was incapable of function. It was like the dying engine of an old ship, stuttering and starting, unable to follow even the most basic of commands. His mind focused on that awful moment, when pain had engulfed his body and mind, before being left with nothing but terrible emptiness. Obi-Wan knew that was when it had happened, when his beloved’s life had finished. There was no other explanation for the emotional onslaught.

“I…I think I felt it,” Obi-Wan murmured.

A frown crossed Tahl’s brow. “What do you mean?” she asked.

Obi-Wan gave a brief description of the moment when the fire had ignited within, how it had ravaged his entire body, before abandoning him and taking the Force bond with it. Confusion lined the woman’s features, as she listened intently and the frown that had drawn her eyebrows together lifted, allowing the delicate arches to rise in surprise.

“Obi-Wan,” she said, once his tale was concluded. “I had no idea that you and Qui-Gon were Lifebonded.”

It was the Knight’s turn to be confused. “Lifebonded?” he parroted. “No…no, we didn’t do _that_. It was just a training bond.” Obi-Wan’s expression turned a little sheepish. “We, um, we didn’t break it after my Knighthood.”

If possible, Tahl’s eyebrows rose even higher.

“There was no chance to do so!” Obi-Wan insisted, his tone becoming defensive. “We were partnered for a mission almost immediately after the Knighting ceremony and, as we’d be working together, saw no reason to break the bond just yet.”

“And afterwards?”

Obi-Wan’s sheepishness grew. “Well…”

Tahl shifted closer to the young man and placed a hand upon his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, whatever your reasons, what you had with Qui-Gon certainly wasn’t a training bond. Such a connection would have expired the second you died. They are simply not strong enough to endure such a divide. In fact, there are very few Force bonds which are.”

Sensing the direction of her thoughts, Obi-Wan spoke up. “But, it can’t be a Lifebond. Neither of us even _spoke_ about such a thing, let alone tried to form one.”

The hint of a smile graced Tahl’s lips. “They are not always formed by choice. Sometimes, although rare, they can develop organically. I must say, however, this is the first I’ve heard of either party being unaware of such a development.”

Obi-Wan was truly speechless. A Lifebond? How in the name of the Gods had they managed _that_? Tahl had to be mistaken, surely? There was no uncertainty in her demeanour, though and, when he really started to think about it, the notion began to make some sense. Then, a stab of regret seized the young man’s heart, because it meant that he had just lost something even more precious than first realised. And, he was still no closer to understanding why it had happened.

“Why can’t I feel it any longer?” he queried. “If it survived _my_ passing, why not his?”

The sorrow, which had momentarily been replaced by intrigue, returned and, if possible, was even stronger than before. Her gaze fell again and she seemed to struggle to find the words. Ice crept along Obi-Wan’s spine.

“Tahl, please,” he begged, his voice a fearful whisper. “Tell me.”

“Qui-Gon killed himself.”

Suicide.

Obi-Wan’s head bowed, as a wave of pain seized him yet again. Moisture gathered along golden-red lashes and his throat felt tight. “Is that…an occupational hazard with a Lifebond?” The young man’s voice quivered with emotion and there was an edge of bitterness to his voice that couldn’t quite be restrained. “One half isn’t much without the other?”

Tahl said nothing, aware that no words would comfort the man beside her in this moment.

Suddenly, a ray of light illuminated the darkness that had blossomed in Obi-Wan’s heart. “But…but it’s alright,” he said, a hesitant buoyancy to his tone. “Qui-Gon will be alright.”

“Obi-”

“His ordeal is over,” the Knight continued, ignorant of the tone creeping into Tahl’s voice. “Where is he?”

“You don’t understand-”

“How do I find him? How long before I can see him?”

“Never.”

The finality of the word stopped Obi-Wan. That dreaded neutrality returned to the Noorian’s features, but it was colder, this time, as though she was trying to shield not just Obi-Wan, but also herself, from the pain.

“You never see him,” she explained, her words spoken slowly, carefully, each syllable uttered clearly, so that the man beside her would understand what she was telling him. “He committed suicide and they go somewhere else.”

Golden-red brows knitted into a frown. “Somewhere else?” He didn’t like the sound of that, his mind connecting the dots and coming to a conclusion that pumped ice through his veins.

Tahl’s lips parted to speak, but her companion wasn’t finished.

“What-what are you punishing him for?”

“Punishment? No, it is not a punishment-”

“Surely he’s suffered enough.” There was an anger rising within the Jedi Knight that he couldn’t quite temper.

Tahl, sensing the shift in his mood, attempted to explain. “No, no, no, Obi-Wan, it’s not about punishment, or suffering, there are no judges or crimes, here. Everybody is equal. It’s just the way these things work.”

“And the way they work is that suicides go to _Hell_?” Obi-Wan had leapt to his feet, his voice rising to almost a shout, as incredulity and outrage surged through him. “Yes, I see no damn judgement in that!”

Right then, it didn’t matter to Obi-Wan that he was supposed to be a Jedi, supposed to be beyond succumbing to emotion, having spent a lifetime burying instincts that were intrinsic to the very essence of human beings. He was angry and no longer cared who knew it. Was this the punishment he and Qui-Gon must face for breaking the sacred vows they had made? Was this the consequence for loving one another, for selfishly taking those three short years of bliss, regardless of their obligation to the Jedi Order? They must spend eternity parted, Qui-Gon floundering in the depths of the Underworld, desperate and alone, whilst his lover wallowed in guilt, surrounded by a mockery of paradise he’d never be able to accept or enjoy?

The woman before him remained seated, her features impassive, as she allowed the young man his moment. She had known right from the beginning that the news of Qui-Gon’s passing would hit Obi-Wan hard, particularly given the circumstances. What Tahl needed to focus on now, was ensuring she could help the young man through it, help him gain acceptance for his lover’s fate. It was truly heart-wrenching to see Kenobi this way and her entire being wished for a way to change it, to somehow make things better, but she knew she couldn’t. What was done was done.

Obi-Wan remained standing, his back to the Noorian, as he willed himself to regain composure. Flying off the handle would achieve nothing. However justified his anger might feel, no good decisions were ever made in the midst of it and it was clear that Tahl had more to say.

“Obi-Wan,” she began, her voice quiet and steady. “I need you to understand that what you view as Hell, the Underworld or whatever you wish to name it, is not a place for _bad people_. It is for those who do not know that they are dead. They cannot come to terms with what has happened, too self-absorbed in-”

Obi-Wan span to face Tahl, the anger he fought to restrain resurging. “Self absorbed? That does _not_ apply to Qui-Gon!”

“No,” Tahl agreed. “It does not.” She paused for a moment, watching the Knight, as he turned to face away from her again. She ignored the pang of sorrow clutching her chest. “Suicide is different. They do not go to the place they do because they are immoral or selfish. They go for a very different reason. There is an order to life, a set pattern to the journey we must all take and Qui-Gon has violated that. He will not face, realise or accept what he has done and must therefore spend eternity playing that out.”

Obi-Wan listened to the words, but his mind found it difficult to swallow the meaning. It mattered little to him the reasons why, only that the man he loved more than anyone or anything was doomed to the servitude of grief and anguish and there was nothing he could do. The sky outside grew dark, as thunder crackled in the distance.

“You must understand, Obi-Wan, that everybody’s Hell is different. It is not all fire and pain. True Hell is your life gone wrong.”

Obi-Wan said nothing. Really, what words could he offer at that moment? Instead, his attention shifted to the place where that most precious of bonds had once resided. He felt naked without it, as though an essential part of him had been ripped away, leaving only a dull, throbbing ache and, the more he focused on it, the worse it felt. It was akin to a deep, dark hole, tearing apart the centre of his soul, the edges delicate and raw, flinching from each touch of his mind. Obi-Wan knew it was a wound from which he would never heal and, in the deep recesses of his heart, a part of him admitted that he didn’t want to. He would take the pain over that awful nothingness he felt earlier any day.

Just as the first tendrils of depression began to curl their fingers around Obi-Wan’s mood, something caught his attention. It was so slight that he’d almost missed it and his breath stilled for a moment, as he waited to see if it happened again.

_There_!

A pinprick of light fought its way through the darkness, dim and flickering, but definitely _there_. Obi-Wan’s first instinct was to immediately reach for the light and grab it, but he held back, alarmed by how delicate it appeared to be and desperate not to scare it away. So, he waited, the seated woman and the beautiful world around him momentarily forgotten. The light continued to linger, still faint and shimmering, but not receding and, with the utmost caution, Obi-Wan allowed his mind to reach forward. His heart beat fast, as he got closer and closer to that curious little light.

Then, he touched it.

_As expected, Mace Windu was about as happy with the performance of the two Jedi, as a Gundark being kicked in the face. Several choice curse words had been unleashed upon them, including one that Obi-Wan had never heard before. Qui-Gon stood beside him, perfectly poised, his face as stoic as it ever was before the Council. This form of reprimand was nothing new for_ him _. A scolding from the Council, to which Obi-Wan had often born witness, was almost as regular an occurrence for the Jedi Master as eating, but this was the first time that the younger man had shared culpability. The time of hiding behind his master’s coattails was over._

_The Knight let the ire wash over him, retaining only the bare minimal amount of attention needed to avoid further censure, whilst allowing the rest of his mind to focus on something which was, in his opinion, far more important. Obi-Wan found his eyes constantly drawn to the tall figure on his right, yet unable to let his gaze settle upon him. All he could think about was the moment on that ridiculous excuse for a transport, when he had betrayed a notion sacred to the Order he’d sworn to obey._

_Despite the hours that had passed, Obi-Wan’s lips still tingled from the contact between he and Qui-Gon. The urge to run a finger along the space where their mouths had met during the kiss was hard to resist and he’d been forced to clasp his hands together, buried beneath the heavy folds of his cloak sleeves. He needed to speak to his former master-Obi-Wan knew that. There were many questions and they needed answers, although just what those answers might be scared the young man far more than he was willing to admit._

_Eventually, the debriefing was over and Obi-Wan lost the battle to control his heartbeat. Fortunately, he was able to maintain the shields surrounding his thoughts and hoped the Council would simply assume the racing pulse was due to the castigation. He was soon dismissed, but Qui-Gon was ordered to stay behind and Obi-Wan could only assume the older man was due for yet more scolding._

_The young Knight turned to leave the chamber, but, before he did, his eyes finally dared to meet Qui-Gon’s. The moment their gazes connected, it was as if the universe had disappeared, leaving only them. Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to run forward and bury himself in the other man’s arms, but sense overrode the urge. Instead, he let a question run across their bond, reinforcing it with his gaze._

**_Talk?_ **

_An almost imperceptible nod was the response. Satisfied and desperately hoping they had been subtle enough before the Council, Obi-Wan continued his exit from the chambers. The moment he deemed himself a safe enough distance away, the young man halted, before placing a steadying palm against the wall. Obi-Wan breathed deeply, inhaling great chestfuls of oxygen, letting it circle his lungs, before releasing it slowly through the mouth. He needed to meditate, or eat, or spar, or…or_ something _. Whatever task he could find to distract his thoughts from Qui-Gon Jinn would be a welcome one._

_In the end, exercise had won over. Although meditation had its benefits, Obi-Wan was never able to clear his mind better, than whilst flying through the air in a somersault, or amidst the noise of clashing lightsabers. Of course, the young man’s past problems had never come close to anything resembling his current predicament. After almost two hours, the young man was tired, sweaty and had no more of a clue as to how he should fix his dilemma than before._

_The standard model of wisdom often stated that the first step to overcoming a problem was to admit to having one. Well, Obi-Wan could categorically confirm that to be utter nonsense. He had long ago confessed the nature of the quandary plaguing him-albeit only to_ himself _-yet was still, years later, no closer to solving it._

_Obi-Wan had fallen in love._

_That, in itself, wasn’t a problem; people fell in love every day. The problem was that Obi-Wan was a Jedi, a profession in which such a notion was deemed worthy of expulsion. There had been many a time when the young man considered living a life away from the Order, leaving behind all he had ever known, to follow a path that promised so much. He would manage, he knew, and, even if he could no longer practise as a Jedi, it wouldn’t ever stop him truly_ being _one. The ways of the Force were as deeply a part of him, as the blood running through his veins._

_Sadly, the man Obi-Wan had fallen for was also a Jedi and it was one thing for him to renounce his own position amongst the Order, but another thing entirely to expect anyone else to do the same. Qui-Gon Jinn, despite his maverick reputation and countless confrontations with the members of the Council, was, in many ways, the truest kind of Jedi. There were very few attuned to the Force in the way he was and Obi-Wan knew where the man he loved belonged. He would serve the Living Force first and foremost and the young man would neither ask nor expect anything else._

_But, back on the ship, just before the kiss, Obi-Wan had seen something; a sentiment he could tell had long been hidden, never intended to be revealed. It was the spark that had emboldened the young man, made him finally offer a glimpse of returned feeling, which led to getting thoroughly carried away in the moment. Who knew what would have happened, had the alarm not sounded?_

_Frustration rose in Obi-Wan, as he realised he was no closer in deciding a course of action._ Well _, he thought,_ firstly, I need a bloody good shower!

_It was halfway through said shower, after knocking his head repeatedly against the tiled wall, that Obi-Wan felt truly cursed by his cautious nature._

_“Snap out of it, Obi-Wan!” he growled to himself, before shutting off the water with the wave of a hand._

_Dry, dressed and with a steeled resolve, Obi-Wan Kenobi went in search of Qui-Gon Jinn._

*

_The communal showers weren’t far from the quarters he still shared with Qui-Gon (the young man had been too cowardly to shower there), but it was enough distance for doubt to start tickling the edges of Obi-Wan’s mind. They increased with such speed and intensity, that, by the time he had reached the door, his hand was unable to cross the distance between him and the door release. His heart was racing again and his palms felt clammy. What the blazes was he so_ afraid _of? He had the easy part, simply admitting to the one he loved how he felt. Qui-Gon’s task was much more difficult, seeing as the younger man was leaving the decision of how to proceed entirely in the Jedi Master’s hands._

**_Obi-Wan?_ **

_The telepathic call of his name was the jolt to the brain the young man needed and his hand finally punched in the code, before the door slid open. Green eyes went immediately to the man lounging in the worn armchair, as was Qui-Gon’s custom, a cup perched on the low table beside him. The first thought to strike Obi-Wan’s mind, upon seeing the tall man, was how ridiculous it seemed that, despite having spent hours together on that tiny ship, they hadn’t said a word to one another since the Knight’s hasty exit from the bathroom. The sign of cowardice dismayed the young man._

_Qui-Gon rose to his feet, removing the cup from the table and carrying it towards the kitchen. “Drink?” he offered._

_“No, thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, his voice soft, as he removed his cloak and draped it over the back of the settee. His hand rested on the dark fabric, fingers shifting slightly, feeling the soft material against his skin. He tried to remember a time he’d ever felt so awkward._

_With the older man busying himself with the task of preparing another drink, Obi-Wan was granted a few short minutes to gather his wits. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and was about to speak, when the other man beat him to it._

_“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said, not yet facing the Knight, both hands resting on the counter top. A line of tension ran down the man’s back, muscles caught in an anxiety rarely seen. “I owe you an apology.”_

_Obi-Wan frowned, but didn’t speak, sensing more was yet to come. His pulse, however, was going mad. Was this the beginning of rejection? Had Qui-Gon already made his decision and chosen the Order?_

_“I do not know what happened, or why, but I do know that my behaviour on our journey back was not befitting of a Jedi Master. For that, I am sorry.”_

_“Do you regret it?” Obi-Wan didn’t know where the bluntness came from and he was frightened of the answer, but the words had escaped unbidden and there was no way to take them back now._

_Silence hung between them and the young man watched, as the other’s shoulders rose and fell with the action of taking a breath. It seemed that they both had trouble breathing properly, these days. Eventually, Qui-Gon turned, until his torso was facing Obi-Wan. The expression on his face was inscrutable, schooled into the sort of neutrality that said far more than any words ever could. He was struggling, just as much as Obi-Wan. How he chose to overcome that struggle, however, was what Obi-Wan needed to know._

_“I…” Qui-Gon began, licking his lips and clearing his throat. “I do not regret what I did, only the consequences it may bring. I don’t think either of us can feign ignorance as to what is happening any longer and I…I feel this is too…_ important _to simply brush aside.”_

_The Adam’s apple at the centre of the Master’s throat bobbed with the action of swallowing and Obi-Wan didn’t think he had ever seen the man look so nervous. Qui-Gon Jinn was always the very image of self-assurance and, even when doubts did cross the lofty man’s mind, only a very select few would have been able to spot the signs._

_Another period of silence fell upon the pair and, in a rare show of dominance over the man to whom he had spent the last twelve years showing deference, Obi-Wan pushed things forward._

_“There are two paths ahead of us, then,” the younger man said, surprised by how steady and logical his voice sounded. “But each requires sacrifice. The first would keep our lives exactly as they are, but at the expense of-” Obi-Wan’s finger motioned back and forth between the two men. “-this. The other forces us to abandon a code we have both spent our lives following.”_

_Green eyes locked onto blue._

_“That is a choice which cannot be made lightly,” Obi-Wan continued. “But know that I will respect whatever decision you make.” Despite his efforts, the Knight couldn’t keep his voice from faltering slightly at the end, as his thoughts tried to focus on anything other than the threat of rejection._

_Surprisingly, given the tension in the room, a smile broke out across the Jedi Master’s face, as a puff of laughter escaped his lips. The sight was so unexpected, yet so…beautiful, that Obi-Wan felt his knees weaken and was once again caught by the urge to embrace him._

_“You appear to have given this a great deal of thought,” the Master commented and, to Obi-Wan’s regret, the smile soon faded, as another expression gripped Qui-Gon’s features. This one held an intensity Obi-Wan found difficult to bear, yet the young man’s gaze was utterly ensnared and he couldn’t have looked away if he wanted to._

_“My choice was made long ago.”_

_A small frown creased the space between Qui-Gon’s brows, as he considered the young man before him and the training bond wasn’t necessary to feel the surprise and doubt the older man carried._

_“Are you certain, Obi-Wan?” he asked, to which the other nodded without hesitation._

_The Jedi Master’s frown deepened, as more disbelief flooded his thoughts. Guilt gnawed at Obi-Wan, as he felt Qui-Gon’s insecurities envelop the room, leaving the younger man to wonder if he had kept his feelings hidden a little too well._

_“How can you be?” Qui-Gon murmured and it was unclear if the question was rhetorical._

_Obi-Wan didn’t hesitate to provide elucidation and took several careful steps forward, until his former master was close enough to touch. “Let me show you,” he requested, hand outstretched._

_Qui-Gon didn’t move or speak, but let his eyes offer consent and Obi-Wan’s hand cradled his jaw. The shields Obi-Wan had erected and maintained for so long started to slip, the pace slow and steady, so as not overwhelm. A small light travelled along the invisible rope that bound the two men together, its touch leaving behind a path of illumination, making everything shimmer and glisten in its wake. When it reached Qui-Gon, a sensation unlike anything ever felt enveloped the Master’s entire being. Images, thoughts and feelings were projected to the older man, the intensity and volume increasing, as Obi-Wan’s shields gradually receded._

_It had not been the young man’s intention to remove the shields completely, but, now that it had begun, he was unable to stop. He’d wanted Qui-Gon to make an informed decision. Well, it wasn’t possible to be more informed than this, as twelve years passed by in the space of a minute. Every single moment he and Qui-Gon had shared, from Bandomeer, to the little ship where they had recently kissed, was played out in both minds, being told from the younger man’s perspective, giving the Jedi Master an unprecedented insight into the other’s mind._

_Every emotion ever felt by Obi-Wan was revealed. The awe of first impressions, the hurt of rejection, the fire of determination; they were all there. And so it continued, right through to the point, six years ago, when a new emotion had come to the fore- love. The sensation hit Qui-Gon so strongly, that he was almost forced to take a stumbled step backwards._

_Seeing the reaction, Obi-Wan was brought back to reality and hastily pushed the barriers back into place. The room that had seemed so bright and vibrant suddenly went dark and, by the time the Knight’s mind was closed off again, both men were breathing heavily._

_“I…I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, between breaths. “That wasn’t supposed-”_

_“You love me.”_

_There was no question in Qui-Gon’s statement, because, really, how could there be? Obi-Wan’s feelings were no longer in doubt and he was surprised by how much that frightened him._

_“I offer myself to you,” Obi-Wan declared in a whisper, his hand still resting against the other man’s cheek. “But this is a choice only_ you _can make. Should you choose the Order, I will think no less of you. In fact, it’ll make you a far stronger man than I.”_

_Blue eyes regarded the younger man, a myriad of emotions swirling within the irises, as they studied every inch of a face that had long since become beloved. The hand holding Qui-Gon’s face was covered by a larger one and a thumb started running along the knuckles._

_“I suppose,” the older man replied, his voice as low as Obi-Wan’s. “In the end, it is a question of what I can live without.”_

_Once again, a light shone between the pair, but, this time, it came from the Master. Everything the Knight had shared was returned and Obi-Wan finally realised that the love he bore the older man was equally returned._

_“I cannot live without you.”_

_Obi-Wan’s heart soared upon hearing those words, as a thousand dreams suddenly became reality. He’d waited so long for this moment to happen, a part of him never truly believing it would, preparing himself to face the misery of solitude. To have his prayers answered was a pleasure beyond anything the young man could describe and, to his embarrassment, tears gathered along golden lashes. The strict composure Obi-wan had managed to maintain was crumbling beneath the weight of elation and he was close to losing control._

_“Qui-”_

_The word, escaping amidst a sob, was swallowed by lips that captured his. Shields fell of their own accord and countless thoughts and feelings passed between the pair, heightening sensations that had been building since Obi-Wan entered the room. They culminated in a kiss of the most deliciously divine, which left Obi-Wan melting into the frame of the other man with a sigh._

_The kiss grew and, when tongues met, control snapped. Obi-Wan threw himself into reciprocation, pulling Qui-Gon as close to him as possible, pouring every ounce of his endless love into the embrace, as the innocence surrounding their admission developed into a more primal need. Taste wasn’t enough; he wanted all five of his senses to be taken over by the man. The Knight wanted his name called by the Master in the throes of passion, wanted his hands to roam that impossibly long body, needed to see the moment the older man succumbed to climax and inhale the scent that was unmistakably Qui-Gon._

_All those desires were projected across the bond, making Qui-Gon moan and he fought back by throwing his own needs at the former apprentice. All it took was one word of consent, flying simultaneously between them and the rest of the night was a haze of heated passion, the room filled with the sighs, gasps and cries of ecstasy. It was a night neither would forget, as they fell asleep in a heap of exhausted and tangled limbs, everything else forgotten amidst the euphoria of love._

Obi-Wan returned to reality with a start. Breath left his lips in heavy gasps and his mind reeled from what had just happened. The bond…it was still there! Immediately, he sought out that little light and a surge of relief stole his heart to see it twinkling in the darkness. Could it truly be?

A plan began to form in Obi-Wan’s mind and, ignoring everything his overly cautious nature begged of him, the Knight slowly turned to face Tahl once again. A beam of sunlight broke through the dark clouds blanketing the sky.

“I can find him.”

The delicate arches framing gold and green eyes bent in confusion. “Obi-Wan?”

“Qui-Gon,” he elucidated. “I’m his Lifemate. I can find him.” The anger that had barraged his senses was gone, replaced with the calm demeanour of a man fuelled by determination.

“Obi-Wan,” Tahl said, getting to her feet. “You don’t understand-”

“It’s not about understanding,” he interjected, his voice soft, but steady. “It’s about not giving up.”

Tahl’s insightful gaze studied the man before her, taking in every fine detail, from the fall of amber hair and line of his jaw, to the resolute set of his lips and the fire of purpose shining in those green eyes. Golden light filtered in through the window behind him and settled upon his form, glowing like a halo bred of hope. Right then and there, Tahl knew she could not refuse him. This was a man deeply in love and willing to do anything to save that love. No matter how futile she believed the ambition to be, who was she to stand in the way of that?

With a deep breath, Tahl slowly nodded. “Alright,” she said. “You deserve your chance.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled with the ending of this chapter and I can only apologise if anyone thinks it's a bit rubbish. This whole chapter was a struggle, to be honest. It's such an important moment in the story and I wanted it to be just right, to carry the emotion that was portrayed so brilliantly in the film. Oh well, I can only hope this manages to keep everyone going, until the next update and I thank each and every person for their kudos and comments. They keep me going! :)


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